


Personality

by Decepticonsensual



Series: No More Colombian Nights (The Stanuary Fics) [3]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Relativity Falls, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:01:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22563682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decepticonsensual/pseuds/Decepticonsensual
Summary: It probably wasn’t helping that Filbrick’s wife had sounded so worried over the phone. Nice about it, sure, but there had been an awful lot of, “You’re sure it’s no trouble?” and, “You’ll make them wear their sunscreen, right?” and, “But won’t you be too busy during the day to keep an eye on them?”Mabel had heard muttering in the background of the call at that point – Filbrick’s voice saying something like, She’d better keep an eye on them, those two are trouble.In an alternate universe, twelve-year-old twins Stanley and Stanford Pines go to spend the summer with their great-aunt Mabel in the sleepy town of Gravity Falls, Oregon.  These are their adventures - aka the rap sheet of one Stan Pines, professional troublemaker with personality.Written for Stanuary 2020, Week 3, prompt - AU.
Series: No More Colombian Nights (The Stanuary Fics) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1623484
Comments: 15
Kudos: 98
Collections: Stanuary





	1. Fraud

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers through the end of the series (in both the fic and the notes below). Warning for references to (although no depictions of) child abuse, as well as depictions of its impacts. My interpretation of Filbrick Pines is a horrifying human being. Please tread carefully.
> 
> So - I couldn't resist playing around with some Relativity Falls fic for Stanuary. :) If you haven't encountered it before, Relativity Falls is an AU where Stan and Ford are children going to stay with their great-aunt Mabel. The usual setup (and the one I've used here) is that Mabel is the one who runs the Mystery Shack, and Dipper is the one who got lost through the portal. The ages and positions of other characters are frequently swapped with those of their relatives - so, for example, Ria in this fic is Soos's grandmother in canon, now his grand _daughter_ and handywoman at the Mystery Shack. You'll see a few other familiar faces, too.

Mabel Pines sat behind the wheel of her vintage El Diablo, squinting at the empty bus stop. Her sparkly purple fingernails drummed against the steering wheel. It was possible that a part of her was nervous – then again, all of her was hyped up on about eight shots of Mabel Juice, so it was difficult to tell. Still, it had been a few years since she’d last seen her great-nephews. Money, and a fear of being too far from the infuriatingly silent portal for too long, kept her visits to New Jersey few and far between. From the occasions when she had made it out, she remembered her grephews mostly as two identical blurs tearing around the apartment. But now that her nephew and his wife had finally taken her up on her offer to look after the little scamps for the summer, Mabel would finally have the chance to make up for lost time.

Her twitchy drumming got faster.

It probably wasn’t helping that Filbrick’s wife had sounded so worried over the phone. Nice about it, sure, but there had been an awful lot of, “You’re sure it’s no trouble?” and, “You’ll make them wear their sunscreen, right?” and, “But won’t you be too busy during the day to keep an eye on them?”

Mabel had heard muttering in the background of the call at that point – Filbrick’s voice saying something like, _She’d better keep an eye on them, those two are trouble._

“Never mind him,” Caryn had laughed – bubbly and bright and hollow, her phone psychic persona taking over. “They’re good boys. Stanford is already reading at a high school level, did I tell you, Mabel? And Stanley.” A genuine warmth had touched her voice. “Such personality!”

So, all right, maybe Mabel was nervous. A little! Not about things like sunscreen – she and Dipper had spent their childhood summers bouncing around the beach, and it had never done her any harm – but, well. What if she didn’t know what to do with two almost-teenagers? What if she got them mixed up (not something she’d ever had to worry about with her own twin, but for identical siblings it must be a nightmare) – or, worse, what if she could only tell them apart by sneaking a look at Stanford’s hands, which Caryn had confided already made him self-conscious? What if the kids just didn’t like Gravity Falls? Or the Mystery Shack, or… or her?

Just then, the bus from the Portland airport pulled up and opened its doors with a hiss, and two boys came tumbling out. One was wearing glasses and an aviator jacket, and toting a suitcase plastered with alien and spaceship and _I Visited The Franklin Institute!_ stickers. Mabel found herself faintly impressed by the collection, despite the lack of glitter. The other had a missing front tooth and at least three visible band-aids, and was hauling a suitcase that it looked like he’d decorated himself with puff paint to resemble a pirate flag.

Any fears Mabel might have had about whether she could tell them apart evaporated instantly.

“See ya, mister!” Stanley was calling to the departing bus, as Mabel stepped out of the car and began to make her way up to the boys – quietly, at first. They hadn’t seen her yet. “Happy to take your money anytime!”

“I still can’t _believe_ you got ten bucks off that guy,” Stanford said, but he was grinning.

“Hey, I won the hand fair and square! Three aces! Plus, I didn’t just get ten bucks; the bet was for _whatever was in his pockets,_ so that’s...” Stanley opened his palm and surveyed the contents. “Matches, a button, a paperclip that I’m totally gonna turn into a lockpick, and half a Snickers!”

“Ew, Stan! You mean a _half-eaten Snickers_?”

“Yup!” Stanley took a bite, then continued talking with his mouth full. “You wan’ some?”

“ _No,_ I don’t want some! So, hang on. What would he have gotten if he’d won?”

Stanley turned his pockets inside-out one by one. “Plastic dinosaur, dryer lint, lucky dice.”

“You definitely got the better end of that bargain.”

“Yeah, right. Like I’d give some knucklehead my lucky dice.” Stanley craned his neck to peer into the woods around them. “Check this place _out,_ Sixer! Bet there’s all kinds of things in those woods. Buried treasure… gangs of outlaws… monsters!”

Stanford’s face seemed to light up. “You really think there are mon-”

“BOO!”

Mabel cackled as the boys yelped simultaneously and turned around. “Gotcha!” she proclaimed, sweeping them both into a hug. “C’mere, you little scamps, say hi to your Grauntie Mabel!” She broke away as quickly as she’d hugged them, tousled Stanford’s hair – he ducked away, but he was smiling – and straightened with a groan and an audible crackle of her spine. “Put your stuff in the trunk and let’s get going. Wait ’til you see the Mystery Shack!”

“Mystery Shack?” Stanford echoed, tagging along. He sounded intrigued. “What makes it so mysterious?”

“Didn’t your parents tell ya? You’re gonna love it, kids – you’ll be spending your summer working the greatest roadside attraction in the state!” At that, the curiosity in Stanford’s expression dried up, and his face fell. Mabel swallowed a sudden pang. She popped the trunk. “C’mon, we haven’t got all day.”

Stanley, meanwhile, stopped as soon as he saw the El Diablo, his suitcase dropping from his nerveless fingers. “ _Whoa._ ” He dashed around to the front of the car and ran his fingers over the hood almost reverently. “Where’d you get such an awesome car? How fast can it go? What kind of engine does it have?” Cupping his hands around his eyes, he peered inside. “Did you… did you cover all the upholstery in… cartoon stars and rainbows? _Ewww,_ Grauntie Mabel.”

“They match the paintjob!” Mabel gestured at the back door of the El Diablo. Stanford, having laid his suitcase carefully in the trunk, was already sitting inside, dutifully buckled up. “In you get with your brother, kiddo. Oh, hang on.” As Stanley tossed his own bag on top of Stanford’s and moved past Mabel to climb inside, she spotted a flash of white and red peeking out of his sleeve at the wrist.

Mabel leaned down and took Stanley’s arm, turning it over gently. The ace of hearts was just visible under his cuff.

“Well. So that’s where you got that third ace from, huh?” Mabel smirked, speaking low enough that Stanford wouldn’t hear. Stanley looked up at her, his eyes wide. Then he plastered on a huge smile and opened his mouth to deliver what she was sure would be one whopper of an invented explanation. If Mabel wasn’t mistaken, though, there was something behind that smile… something almost fearful.

She put one finger to her lips, and with the other hand, laid a fingertip on the edge of the card and slid it back under Stanley’s cuff until it was properly hidden again. “Just keep a good grip on it this time, okay, kiddo? Never know when you might need an ace up your sleeve.”

His smile was real this time, as brilliant and startling as the sun bursting through a broken shutter.


	2. Stealing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which an extremely normal and unsuspicious gentleman of Gravity Falls goes to the movies.

The first time Stan stole from Mabel happened like this.

She was just settling in for another double header on the Black ‘n’ White Old Lady Boring Movie Channel ( _The Duchess Approves_ followed by _In the Immediate Future, Journeyer_!) when she caught sight of a tall, slender figure out of the corner of her eye, loitering near the door to the Shack. Mabel reached into her pocket and slipped on her knuckledusters – gold, with a sparkly cut-glass gem over each finger, for added style and a little extra damage on each punch. Then, as quietly as she could, she crept up to the doorway of the den…

A strangely lumpen man in a trenchcoat, with bizarrely short arms, each ending in six fingers, appeared to be trying to exit her house.

Mabel grinned, then called out, “Hold it right there, buddy!”

She affected astonishment when the figure awkwardly lumbered through a 180-degree turn, revealing the blushing face of her great-nephew Stanford peeping out from under a floppy hat. Ford’s face, and Ford’s hands; and those were definitely Stanley’s scuffed sneakers poking out the bottom of the coat.

Oh, this was going to be _fun._ Mabel wondered how long she could draw it out for, until she got the kids to give themselves away.

“Ford! Sorry, gumdrop, didn’t realise it was you. D’ya… have a growth spurt there, or something?”

“Heh, yeah.” Ford fidgeted, and it apparently had a negative effect on the figure’s balance, because it swayed dangerously, but managed to right itself. “What can I say? Puberty! It’s really interesting that humans don’t gain height gradually, but instead in big, concentrated bursts. Like, uh, like I’ve just had. Which is also what a lot of scientists think happens with evolution...”

Mabel darted a glance down at “Ford’s” midsection. Then she very ostentatiously drew out her wallet while listening to Ford talk, and pulled out a $5 bill with a flourish. She stuck the bill in her right hip pocket so that most of it was poking out in plain sight, within easy reach of the front of the coat, and returned the wallet to the opposite pocket. There; that should bait her other great-nephew into revealing himself.

“Interesting, interesting,” she nodded seriously, interrupting Ford’s scientific monologue, which was getting faster and more anxious by the minute. Ford took the opportunity to grab a gulp of air. “Say, where are you headed?”

“Just to the movies!”

“Yeah?” Mabel snuck a look at the $5 bill. Still there. Hmmm. “What are you going to see?”

“ _Bad Dreams on Maple Avenue VIII._ ”

“Lemme guess. It’s R-rated?” Before Ford could stop sputtering long enough to think of a reply, Mabel continued, “Where’s Stan? You’re not going with your brother?”

“Nope! Stan had things to do.” Ford’s smile was sunny and pleasantly bland, and might even have been convincing to someone without Mabel’s keen eye.

There had still been no attempt to grab for the $5. Time for a different strategy. “Huh. In that case, you sure you wanna see that blood ‘n’ guts movie? You know, that new documentary on space is playing at the theatre downtown…”

“The one about Stephen Hawking?” Ford couldn’t quite keep the excitement out of his voice.

“Yeah, that’s the one! And hey, since you’re getting the tickets _all by yourself_ …” Mabel leaned close, but made sure not to lower her voice _too_ much. “You get to decide.”

Ford’s silence suggested he was at least considering it.

Mabel apparently wasn’t the only one who thought so, either, because an identical face abruptly popped out of the midsection of the trench coat, below Ford’s. “Hey, Poindexter, what gives?” Stan demanded. He twisted his head around, trying to glare up at his brother. “We agreed it was gonna be _Bad Dreams on Maple_ _Avenue_!”

“A- _ha_!” Mabel cried, even as Ford said, _“Darn_ it, Stan! She was buying it!”

“She definitely wasn’t,” Mabel told them. Reaching out, she plucked Ford off Stan’s shoulders and set him gently on the ground, where he looked even more like he was drowning in the trench coat. “If you wanna get into an R-rated movie, kids, just slap on a couple of fake moustaches. People in this town aren’t all that observant.”

“Yeah, but then we’d have to buy _two_ tickets,” Stan pointed out.

Mabel ruffled his hair. “That’s my boy.”

As she followed the kids out to wave goodbye, she paused and looked down again at the $5 bill sticking out of her pocket. Maybe she’d misjudged Stan…

Mabel’s eyes widened.

The bill was still there. The rest of her wallet, which had been deep in the pocket facing away from the twins, was gone.

(Stan managed to slip it back into her pocket that evening during _Duck Detective_ , and Mabel couldn’t bring herself to punish him. Sure, she was down a few bucks, but every one of her photos and stickers was still perfectly in place, and he’d even replenished her emergency gummi koalas.)


	3. Brawling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Stan makes an enemy. And a friend. (Potentially two.)
> 
> Warnings for minor violence.

The first time Stan got into a fight in front of Mabel happened like this.

The Mystery Shack was buzzing. Mabel strutted out onto the balcony, smiling at the way the disco lights reflected off her new tux – red-sequined from head to toe, the product of a second-hand leisure suit and a lot of nights with the needle and hot glue gun – and surveyed the party below. Her handywoman, Ria, had managed to scare up a synthesiser and was DJing, complete with a liberal use of explosion sound effects. The line for tickets snaked all the way from the door back to the parking lot, promising a healthy profit from the evening. And best of all, Mabel reflected, preening, it looked like the town was genuinely having a good time.

Although some more than others. The littlest of the McGucket kids was sitting alone on the sidelines, clutching his cup of Pitt soda and looking a bit dazzled by the bright lights and the frenetic movement of people. Nevertheless, he was tapping his fingers and bobbing his head to the beat, and there was a kind of longing in the way he watched the other kids on the dance floor. It looked like he wanted to join in. It also looked like there was no way in hell he was going to be able to do it on his own.

Mabel pursed her lips. What the kid needed was someone his own age, even just one person, who would take an interest in him and reach out to pull him in. Well, friend-making was just like matchmaking – easier, even! Sure, her skills at both were a little rusty, but how hard could it be to find the boy one friend?

In spite of herself, Mabel felt a spreading warmth in her chest that she hadn’t experienced in a while.

The important thing was always to start with something two people had in common. Now, what did she know about the McGucket kid? Small, shy, good at fixing things, always out in his family’s front yard tinkering with machinery and –

Two seconds later, Mabel was grabbing Ford by the hand and tugging him away from the candy buffet. “C’mere, kiddo, somebody I think you should meet!” She walked her bewildered great-nephew over to McGucket (Stan, full of ill-concealed curiosity, shoved about seven marshmallows in his pockets and trailed behind them). “This is – sorry, kiddo, I forget your first name –”

“Fiddleford,” the kid said faintly, his eyes darting from Mabel to Ford and back.

Ford lifted his hand in a hesitant wave, then dropped it again abruptly, but Fiddleford didn’t so much as blink at the extra finger. He waved back, then looked dismayed as a small tidal wave of pink soda escaped the cup and coated the cuff of his sleeve.

“Fiddleford here is a genius with everything mechanical,” Mabel proclaimed, ignoring Fiddleford looking mournfully at his shirt. “Didn’t you do something to Farmer Sprott’s combine harvester that gave it turbo boosters or somethin’?”

“I just made it run a little faster, ma’am,” Fiddleford said. “But I – I _have_ been working on putting rockets on my pa’s lawn mower; I think I can get it to take off, if I could just get the vector calculations right and...” He trailed off, and smiled shyly. “Sorry, you’re probably not interested in hearing all that.”

“You’re into rockets?!” Ford all but yelped. “I’ve been reading about new kinds of propulsion and I could help take a look at your calculations – I mean, if you’d like -”

He and Fiddleford started to babble at each other a mile a minute, and Mabel blinked, hard. Minus the glasses, Ford could practically be Dipper: her Dipper, before the anger and mistrust set in between them, twelve years old and unabashedly in love with all the super-serious, incredible things he was learning. Propping his elbows on the end of her bed in the evening and telling her stories about secret societies and historical conspiracies, and monsters in the woods.

And maybe it was because Mabel’s thoughts had turned in that direction that she noticed the look that crossed Stan’s face, just for a moment. It was strange and raw, pride and pain in equal measure. Loving the way his brother lit up when he talked about the things that fascinated him, and at the same time, aching because he wasn’t the one Ford was pouring those ideas out to; because for once, someone else understood better, could keep up better.

Oh, yes. Mabel knew that look. She’d worn it often enough.

It really was just a moment, and then the expression dissolved into a cocky grin so fast that Mabel was left wondering if she’d imagined it. Stan mock-punched Ford’s shoulder and said, “Lookit that, Sixer, you finally found someone who’s as big a nerd as you! Guess I’ll leave you two to talk _math_ ; I’m gonna go find the cutest girl here and ask her to -”

At that very moment, a small raccoon scrabbled out of Fiddleford’s pocket and darted up to perch on his shoulder, where he casually fed it a handful of popcorn.

Stan’s eyes grew as huge as the lens on the Hubble Telescope. Whole galaxies of stars were reflected in them.

Mabel grinned to herself, and left Fiddleford – looking overwhelmed, but distinctly pleased – to cope with the sudden and absolute attention of both Pines twins. She could still hear scraps of excited conversation behind her, a mix of, “But if you adjust the fuel mix – !” and, “WHAT DOES HE EAT CAN I FEED HIM A MARSHMALLOW??”, until Ria grabbed the mic to announce –

“The Party Crown! Whoever...” She squinted at the paper Mabel had given her. “‘Party hardies’… _¿qué significa eso?_ \- anyway, most applause at the end of the night gets the crown!”

“A crown? I believe that would be mine.”

A murmur ran through the crowd, and people shuffled aside to make way for a young boy in what looked like a horrendously expensive tailored suit, strolling up to the DJ booth. He was flanked by two other boys in similarly impressive duds, and, as unlikely as it seemed, a man with a pencil moustache whose clothes and bearing just screamed _butler._

Mabel narrowed her eyes. The whole town knew Preston Northwest. The little scug was splashed across the local papers often enough, usually dolled up to attend some fancy function or other. She supposed she should be grateful that he’d decided to grace the Mystery Shack, but the brat set her teeth on edge.

Ria, bless her, wasn’t backing down an inch. “I can’t just give you the crown,” she said, kindly but firmly. “It goes to whoever wins the competition.”

“Oh, and who’s going to compete against _me_ , hmmmm?” Preston raised his voice as he turned to survey the room, his eyes glinting. It was the first expression Mabel had ever seen on his face that was anything other than cultured boredom, and it made her shudder to look at. Preston’s gaze lit on the clutch of kids standing at the back, and his smile was savage. “Hillbilly trash?” He pointed at Fiddleford, who shrank back as if he wanted to curl into himself. Ford moved towards him solicitously, which caught Preston’s eye; he shifted to point to Ford. “Or the six-fingered fr-“

That was as far as he got before Stan slammed into his midsection.

Mabel hadn’t even seen Stan _move._ One second, he’d been standing next to his twin; the next, he was throwing himself at Preston like a tiny, incensed nuclear warhead. Preston’s eyes went wide, and he overbalanced, hitting the dance floor in a much more literal way than he’d obviously intended.

Preston was a year older and a good bit taller, and it was clear from the way he fought that he’d had training (no doubt his father had paid for some Sportlympic boxer to tutor him), but Stan had the advantages of experience and rage. It wasn’t long before he had Preston pinned down and was pummelling him while the bigger boy tried in vain to throw him off.

Mabel hesitated. Should she try and break them up? It wasn’t like Preston didn’t have it coming, but still...

Then she glanced from the fight to Ford and Fiddleford. A second ago, they’d been huddled together miserably, looking like they both wanted to disappear. Now, Fiddleford seemed as starry-eyed as Stan had over Fiddleford’s pet raccoon, and Ford was _glowing,_ the biggest grin she’d ever seen on his face.

Well. That decided it.

Mabel cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled gleefully, “ _Kick his butt, sweetie_!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Spanish is from Google Translate, I apologise profusely.


	4. Brawling, Two Counts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the boys get lost, and more importantly, found.
> 
> Warnings: If you're not up for reading about children in danger right now, you may want to skip this chapter (you will still be able to understand the rest of the fic). This is also the heaviest chapter for child abuse references.

The first time Stan broke Mabel’s heart happened like this.

Mabel and the kids had been picnicking down by the lake all afternoon, and were just packing the last of the supplies into the car for the trip back, as the sky had turned threatening. When Mabel shut the trunk, though, and turned to say something, the boys were both gone.

It wasn’t exactly _unlike_ them to run off, but that suddenly and that silently – Mabel felt a trickle of ice down her spine. None of the other families in the parking lot had seen two small boys. She rushed from the lot to the beach, then to the treeline, calling out; every second that she didn’t get a reply made that trickle freeze thicker and colder, like someone had replaced her bones with icicles.

When she circled back, and noticed the wet, heavy tracks down to the shore – half-obscured by the sand, but very much there and very much not-human – the ice settled into the pit of her stomach.

An hour later, Ria and her _abuelo,_ Soos, were leading search parties made up of half the town: Susan from the diner, the McGuckets, Wild Wendy Corduroy and her boys, everyone they could drum up. Mabel left them to it, and went instead to get information from a source only she could interrogate.

Every last one of the gnomes jumped when she kicked down the door to the bar. Every one, that was, except for a beetle-browed old timer in the corner, who didn’t even look up from where he was playing five-finger fillets with an acorn.

Mabel leaned over the table until she was inches from his face. “I’ll get you all the damn butterflies you want,” she ground out, “if you tell me, right now, everything you know about lake monsters who might try to take a human kid.”

The gnome’s information sent Mabel back down to the lakeshore, on the far side from where she could just barely hear the search parties’ shouts of _Ford! Stan! Can you hear us?_ Something had been here, and no mistake. The bushes near the water had been trampled and pulled into what looked like a massive nest, draped with layers of a foul-smelling green lakeweed. She couldn’t see inside, but as she got nearer, she could just make out a faint rustling from within.

Mabel hefted her barbed-wire-wrapped bat and crept closer, gritting her teeth. She couldn’t remember ever having felt this kind of terrified _rage_ in her life – not even the night that that portal had ripped her brother away from her. Then, she’d been frantic and lost, but now, Mabel Pines had three decades’ more experience of monsters of every shape and size, and she wasn’t about to let one take her family.

The rustling moved nearer, and nearer. Mabel raised the bat and –

Ford and Stan stumbled out of the treeline.

Stan was limping and leaning on his brother heavily, his left sneaker missing; he and Ford both looked the worse for wear. They were drenched and coated in green ooze and something that initially looked horrifying, but was in fact, Mabel would later determine, kelpie blood, not the boys’ own.

Any closer inspection would have to wait, though. As soon as Mabel saw them, she was in motion; the bat fell from her hands and she roared, “ _Kids!_ Where in the jiminy crickets have you been?” and went flying towards them like a ship under full sail.

There was nothing deliberate about the boys did then. It was pure instinct, and that made it all the worse.

At Mabel’s yell, both kids flinched back. Ford shrank in on himself, his eyes huge; and Stan, as unsteady on his feet as he was, planted himself between his brother and Mabel, and threw out his arms like a shield.

Mabel came screeching to a halt. Ford’s eyes were frightened in the rising moonlight. Stan’s face, though, was blank, blank, blank as he met Mabel’s eyes. On someone normally so expressive, it was downright unnerving.

It was the absolute, studied blankness of a child who’s bracing himself to take what’s coming, and who knows in his bones that showing any reaction, whether it’s fear or defiance, is just going to make things worse.

Feeling sick, Mabel did the only thing she could think of. She ignored the popping in her knees and sank down into a crouch where she was.

“I’m not mad at you kids,” she said, as softly as she could. “I’m upset ’cause I was real worried, but I’m not upset _at_ you. I’m just so relieved you’re okay.” And she held out her arms.

For a moment, she was pretty sure none of them breathed.

Then Ford was hugging her, and she folded one arm around him, holding onto him fiercely. The other, she kept outstretched. She watched Stan over his brother’s damp curls, as Stan – warily, as if he wasn’t quite convinced this welcome was also for _him_ – shuffled closer, until Mabel could grab him and reel him in.

Then he clung onto her, his face turned away, and shook like a leaf.

Mabel just held them, there, listening to the lake lapping at the shore and the distant shouts, and the miraculous sound of both her grephews just breathing, until Stan’s trembling eased and Ford began to pull away. And as she held them, she realised with icy certainty that she was never, ever going to let them go back to their father.

Oh, yes, Mabel Pines had plenty of experience with monsters. And she wasn’t about to let one take her family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, writing involves meticulous research. Other times, it involves typing the phrase "game stab knife near hand" into Google and calling it good. :)
> 
> The habits of kelpies in this fic are, naturally, a little bit askew from the way they're usually described in myth, but my defence is that everything in Gravity Falls operates a little differently.
> 
> On a more serious note, if Mabel's realisation at the end of this chapter seems sudden, remember that she's already had a couple of months with the kids by now. This is less of a bolt out of the blue, and more of a moment that crystalises all of the little observations that she's picked up without putting them together before now.


	5. Grand Theft Apocalypse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saving the universe comes at a terrible price.
> 
> Luckily, if there's one person who's an expert at not paying for the things he wants, it's Stan Pines.

After everything – after Weirdmaggedon, and the terrible sacrifice that ended it – they brought Mabel back to the Mystery Shack.

Dipper helped her into her old armchair. She was still wrapped in his coat. Her fez was perched atop her spiky, freshly shorn grey hair – lopped off hastily with Dipper’s knife, to make it easier for the twins to pass for one another. She’d worn it long all her life until now.

She looked small, in a way Mabel had never looked small.

“There must be _something_ we can do,” Ford whispered.

Dipper didn’t even realise he had been crying until he tried to speak. “There isn’t,” he managed to get out. He reached out to put a hand on Ford’s shoulder, but pulled back before touching, aware of just how inadequate any comfort was. “I’m sorry, kids. Mabel’s gone.”

Ria was sniffling quietly in the corner. Ford looked more lost than Dipper had ever seen him. And Mabel just… looked at them all, placidly, without a hint of recognition.

That was about when Stan yelled, “NUTS TO THIS!” and practically threw himself onto Mabel’s chair, a photo album with the words _Stan’s Awesome Adventures!!_ on the cover clutched in his hand.

“See, Grauntie Mabel? That’s the first day we came to Gravity Falls… and here’s Pioneer Day… and that’s the picture Ford took right before I fell out of that tree…”

The pages turned in front of Mabel’s uncomprehending eyes. Dipper moved forward, saying quietly, “Stan, it’s no use, I’m sorry...”

The stubborn set of Stan’s jaw was the only sign he’d heard. He didn’t even look up, his voice uncharacteristically gentle as he kept showing her page after page. “That’s when I won Gompers… that’s the page that isn’t there no more because Gompers ate it… here we are at mini golf… this is the time Ford and Fids built that rocket out of boxes, and we crashed on the roof of the mall…”

“Yeah… remember that?” Ford came around the other side of Mabel’s chair. “Here’s that Summerween we spent together!”

“This is when we stole that guy’s fish and the lake police chased us!”

“There’s Stan dressed as Frankenstein’s monster!”

“There’s Ford dressed _as_ Frankenstein!”

“I’m sorry… I don’t...” Mabel chewed her bottom lip. She reached up, as if to twine her hair around her finger – a nervous habit Dipper realised she still had from when they were kids – and then seemed more distressed when there wasn’t enough of it there to do so. “I don’t remember any of this, or who you all are, or...” Her eye fell on Stan’s hand where it was holding the book, and what looked to Dipper like a playing card half-tucked into his sleeve. Mabel reached down, without really paying it much attention, and pushed the card fully under the cuff. “Keep a better grip on that, Stan,” she said absently, “you never know when you’re gonna need an ace up your sleeve.”

All four of them gasped at the same time.

“Keep going!” Dipper gripped the back of Mabel’s chair, practically rattling it in his excitement. “It’s working!”

“Skip to my page! Ms. Pines needs to remember our amazing boss-employee relationship!”

“Hey, just ’cause I have amnesia, don’t go trying to give yourself a raise, Ria!”

“Stan, it’s _really_ working!” Ford was bouncing on his toes.

Stan looked up, breathless. Mabel’s gaze on him was now anything but blank. It looked like she was still struggling for recognition, but there was a warmth there that made Dipper feel like tearing up again – this time, in the best way.

Stan read and read, and when he hit a part of the scrapbook that made them laugh, Mabel joined in.


End file.
